Loco Motive

by Mary Daheim

  “Poor old guy,” Laurie said under her breath. “Matt’s doing his best to keep his game face on, but he really admired Willie.”

  “Is Matt staying with him until we get to Scuttle?” Judith asked.

  Laurie nodded. “I’m useless when it comes to patients. At least my MBA qualifies me to run the business side of Matt’s practice.”

  “We’re no help either,” Renie said. “I suggest a trip to the bar.”

  “Sounds good,” Laurie responded. “It’s cocktail time in the Twin Cities.”

  A female voice called from behind the trio. Judith, Renie, and Laurie turned around. Two young women had come into the corridor from a roomette.

  “A passenger’s sick,” Laurie said. “Don’t fret. It’s not contagious.”

  Judith couldn’t help but stare at the newcomers. She suddenly recognized the short, dimpled blonde and her taller, dark-haired companion. The young women stared right back.

  “I know you,” the blonde said. “Not from seeing you on the train, but…” She turned to the dark-haired girl. “Tiff? Help me out here.”

  The dark-haired Tiff looked puzzled for a moment. “Um…” She glanced at the blonde. “Nordquist’s shoe department, Maddie.”

  Maddie paused before nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, yes! You bought those to-die-for black strappy shoes.”

  Both young women giggled. “Thanks!” Maddie called over her shoulder as they scurried back to their roomette. “We’re glad whatever is wrong with that guy in the accessible room isn’t catching.”

  Neither cousin said a word, but continued up the steps. Judith decided there was no point in expressing doubts about the young women’s veracity in front of a virtual stranger. When the trio reached the dome car, Laurie held up a hand. “My treat. I like to feel useful. Stay here and get us some seats. What’ll it be?”

  The cousins gave their standard orders. Laurie headed downstairs. Renie pounced on three chairs toward the end of the crowded car, two of which had just been vacated by a couple of teenagers. For the first time since leaving the lower level of their sleeper, Judith noticed that a heavy rain was falling.

  “Fitting gloom-and-doom weather,” she murmured as she sat down. “I actually feel sorry for poor old Willie.”

  “Of course you do,” Renie said. She gave her cousin a sly glance. “Okay—what was that conversation with those two girls all about?”

  “You noticed?”

  Renie looked exasperated. “Of course. I’m not brain-dead. Yet.”

  Judith kept her voice to a whisper. “Those two showed up at the B&B right after Willie fell in the pyracantha. They asked about Herself’s rental. I told them they had the wrong address and to see Mrs. Rankers next door. Her daughter was the rental agent. I was anxious to get rid of them because the usual rescue crew was due to arrive. I didn’t notice if the girls went to see Arlene—I just assumed they did. Now I wonder if it was a ruse connected to Willie.”

  Renie was skeptical. “Like what? Asking for his autograph? How about an honest mistake and couldn’t remember where they’d seen you?”

  Judith narrowed her eyes at Renie. “Do you believe that?”

  “I’m not sure,” Renie admitted. “But I can’t think why they’d lie. More to the point, why would they need to?”

  “Yes,” Judith agreed. “That’s one of the questions.”

  Renie looked wary. “Oh?”

  “Two, in fact. How did they happen to be on this train staying in a roomette only a few yards from Willie? And how did they know that the sick passenger was in the handicapped room? Laurie didn’t tell them.”

  “Because a person in the aforementioned room is there because he or she has poor health?” Renie threw up her hands. “Here we go again!”

  Judith was affronted. “What?”

  Composing herself, Renie began her reasons for ignoring Willie and his hangers-on. “A crazy old coot jumps off your roof, breaking an arm and a leg. You and Joe told him repeatedly it was against B&B rules. By chance, he arrives on the same train we’re taking. Fractures rarely prove fatal, and over the years Willie’s probably broken every bone in his aging body. Since you got on board, you’ve tried to figure out a connection with him and some other passengers, including the no-show Kloppenburgs, the Cowboy Hats, and now the ditzy girls who inquired about Herself’s rental. Maybe you think Emily is a midget spying on you for Pepper, and forget her threats—that’s all they are. A judge would toss out a lawsuit against you faster than you could say, ‘If he do jump, you can kiss my rump.’” Renie paused for breath.

  “Coz,” Judith said quietly, “you don’t need to—”

  Renie held up a hand. “I’m not done. Willie has a competent doctor and concerned Amtrak employees attending him. Yet you think Willie’s knocking on the Pearly Gates because you helped him get there.” She rechecked her watch. “It’s three thirty-five. Willie gets off in less than half an hour. You’ll never see him again, you probably won’t ever hear from Pepper. Try needlepoint as a hobby instead of envisaging potential corpses or killers among your B&B guests.”

  “I used to needlepoint,” Judith said. “It got too hard on my eyes.”

  “Try turning on a light,” Renie snapped. “Here’s Laurie with the drinks.”

  The next half hour was spent in pleasant chatter, what Judith called “The Getting to Know You Show.” The exchanges with guests and other strangers tended to be one-sided, with Judith learning ten times more about newcomers than they found out about her. Renie was so used to her cousin’s adroit queries and encouraging comments that she sat back and kept quiet. As often as she’d played a supporting role, Renie appreciated Judith’s conversational prowess. The Chans had met in L.A. while Laurie was in grad school at UCLA and Matt was interning at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Laurie had gone on a blind date with her room-mate’s brother, who turned out to be a jerk.

  “I told this creep I was coming down with flu,” Laurie said, her dark eyes full of mischief. “He didn’t understand no meant no. Finally I said I was going to throw up. We happened to be a block from Cedars-Sinai, so he pulled into the ER entrance and virtually shoved me out of the car. I staggered inside and fell over a walker. My so-called date roared off, and there I was, lying on the floor with a sprained ankle. I looked up to see this good-looking guy in a white coat. He asked if he could help. I was so rattled that I said he certainly could, adding he could even marry me. Which he did exactly one year later.”

  The cousins laughed. Over halfway through her martini, Laurie grew wistful. “That was eight years ago. We’re still wondering about having kids. We’ve considered adoption—I was adopted. My mom and dad got me through a Hong Kong–based agency. Taking an unwanted child instead of having our own appeals to us, but Matt’s parents are very traditional. They were born in China before the Communist takeover. When the subject comes up, they have a fit. I hope we figure it out before we’re old enough to be grandparents.”

  Their glasses were drained when the train stopped. “This must be Scuttle,” Laurie said, looking at a small cluster of buildings. “Maybe I can help Matt get Mr. Weevil off the train.”

  “Thanks for the drinks,” Judith said. “We’ll return the favor before we get to the Twin Cities.”

  After Laurie had hurried off, Judith noticed that there was no train station, or even a sign designating the town as Scuttle. The commercial section featured a motel, a café, a gas station, and a hardware store on one side of the street, and two taverns, a drugstore, a variety store, and a post office on the other.

  “Not a thriving metropolis,” Renie noted. “The word that comes to mind is ‘shabby.’ No wonder it’s not a regular train stop.”

  “I don’t see an ambulance,” Judith said. “It must be parked out of sight, probably by the sleeper. Should we go back to our compartment while we’re not moving? It shouldn’t take long for Willie’s transfer.”

  “I’ll make a quick run to the bar car for Pepsi,” Renie said, standing up. �
��Bottled water for you?”

  “Sounds good.”

  After Renie left, Judith stared through the rain-streaked window. Only one car and a pickup drove down the street in the next couple of minutes. A man came out of the hardware store. A woman went into the drugstore. The rain looked as if it was turning to sleet.

  A teenage girl in the chair next to the one Renie had vacated addressed Judith. “’Scuse me,” she said. “What’s going on? My stop’s at Malta.”

  “A sick man is being taken to the Malta hospital,” Judith replied. The girl seemed puzzled. “But Scuttle’s only twenty miles from Malta. Why couldn’t they wait until we got there?”

  “The man’s very ill,” Judith said. “At the rate we’re moving, it may be faster to drive him to Malta.” She saw Renie at the head of the stairs. “Excuse me. My cousin’s waiting for me.”

  “Bummer,” the girl murmured. “Who’s sick? Maybe I know him.”

  Judith had risen from her chair. “Then you’ll hear about it when you get home.” She forced a smile as she moved on to join an impatient-looking Renie.

  “That would be New Friend Number Twenty-eight?” Renie murmured.

  “Not really,” Judith replied. “She wanted to know why we stopped here. She lives in Malta and knows the entire population.”

  “Hmm.” Renie juggled the Pepsi, bottled water, and a bag of pretzels. “She sounds like a Judith Flynn wannabe.”

  “Skip the sarcasm,” Judith retorted. “Have you heard any sirens?”

  “No,” Renie said as they moved between the dome and the dining cars. “But the boozers in the bar were pretty loud.”

  Judith noticed that three of the waiters, including Earl, were putting the table settings in place. She smiled at him. He smiled back.

  “Not now,” Renie said softly. “I’m not a circus performer. I’ll be lucky if I don’t spill the ice. Interrogate him about Roy at dinner.”

  By the time Judith and Renie reached the entrance to their room, the train hadn’t moved. “I still can’t see the ambulance,” Judith said, checking both sides of the car. “Maybe they’ve come and gone.”

  “Probably.” Renie put the carrier on the table and sat down. Judith remained standing.

  “I’ll see if Laurie and Matt are back in their roomette. They’ll know what’s going on.”

  “Go for it. You won’t be satisfied until you find out.”

  Judith went back down the corridor to the Chans’ compartment. The door was shut. She rapped twice. Laurie slowly slid the door open. Judith saw at once that the younger woman looked upset.

  “Mr. Weevil died before the ambulance arrived.” Laurie stepped aside so Judith could enter the roomette. “Matt’s still downstairs. I’ve never been with him when a patient died. I don’t know how he copes.”

  Judith’s knees turned weak. She had to sit down. Her reaction wasn’t caused by shock or even surprise. But she felt a strong sense of guilt. No matter how hard she’d tried to discourage Wee Willie from jumping off of Hillside Manor’s roof, Judith was convinced that somehow she was responsible. A dozen what-ifs raced through her mind.

  “Judith,” Laurie said in alarm, “are you okay?”

  Judith wasn’t sure. “It’s…terrible news.”

  Laurie hovered over her. “Can I help? Should I get Matt?” Taking a deep breath, Judith tried to collect herself. “I’ll be all right,” she said hoarsely. “I feel…sad.”

  Laurie’s expression was sympathetic. “Did you know him?” Judith hesitated, wondering if she should be candid. She decided on discretion. “Like Matt, my son was a big fan of Willie’s,” she hedged.

  Laurie nodded. “I understand. Matt never met Willie, but he felt as if he knew him from all those movies and TV shows.”

  The unasked but inevitable question refused to stop nagging Judith. “Does Matt know the cause of Willie’s death?”

  “He assumes it was a cardiac problem,” Laurie said. “Not knowing the patient’s history, Matt can only guess.”

  “Was Willie still alive when Matt went down to see him?”

  “Yes.” Laurie looked outside and shivered. “What’s taking the ambulance so long? We’re close to Malta. Is it colder or am I having a nervous reaction?”

  “It is chilly.” Judith also glanced outside. “It’s getting dark early.”

  Laurie moved to the sink, where she stared into the mirror. “I look ghastly. What’s wrong?” she demanded shrilly. “I’m a rational person, but I feel uneasy, as if a big dark cloud’s hanging over my head.”

  Judith stood up. “You watched a man die. Being upset is natural. In the presence of death, we’re reminded of our own mortality.”

  Laurie uttered a harsh laugh. “A doctor’s wife asks a nonpractitioner to diagnose her? That figures. The whole world’s skewed.”

  A tap on the door prevented Judith from responding. “I’ll get it,” she told Laurie. “Maybe you’re the one who should be sitting down.”

  Mr. Peterson, still grim, addressed Laurie. “Mrs. Chan, could you please come downstairs?”

  Laurie was taken aback. “Why? What’s wrong? Is my husband okay?”

  “Yes,” the conductor replied. “It’s a formality. Dr. Chan can explain.”

  Laurie straightened her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  With a heavy step, Judith returned to her room. Renie looked up from her book. “Well?”

  “Willie’s dead.”

  Renie crossed herself. “Sad.” She gestured at the window. “It’s snowing.”

  Judith moved closer to see for herself. “It’s colder in here, too.”

  “What now?”

  Judith frowned at her cousin. “What do you mean?”

  “Has the body been removed? Is the widow grieving? Will the train start up? Should we wait for the spring thaw?”

  Judith’s expression was reproachful. “You can’t be sympathetic for more than sixty seconds, can you?”

  Renie remained stoic. “I can if I know the person. I’ll pray for him, but I won’t mourn. Willie and I were strangers on a train.”

  Judith didn’t say anything. She was frustrated, sad, and for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she was scared. Maybe Laurie’s traumatized reaction had fueled her own fears. Watching the snow fall in big, wet flakes that obscured most of Scuttle’s homely little main street, Judith thought back to the past few days’ events. The previous Monday had been ordinary. Willie hadn’t yet arrived at Hillside Manor. Renie hadn’t begged Judith to accompany her on the train trip. Joe hadn’t known that he, like Bill, was going to Boston. Willie hadn’t yet made his leap off of the B&B’s roof. There had been no inkling that Mike and his family would show up for the Halloween weekend. If only, she thought, I could obliterate the past few days—just like the snow hides the squalor of this little wide spot in the road. But I can’t. The snow will melt, the town will still be drab. I can’t change anything. “I’m tired,” Judith murmured.

  Renie had also been watching the snow. “I know.” She smiled cynically. “Here we are, stuck in the middle of nowhere on a train that can’t move, snow coming down, with a corpse for a fellow traveler. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Judith didn’t respond. She saw the book she’d been trying to read and shoved it into her carry-on. “I don’t want to sit here. It’s too quiet. Why don’t we go to the club car?”

  “You’re spooked, aren’t you?” Renie’s serious expression indicated she wasn’t teasing. “Sorry, coz,” she said before Judith could speak, “but you’re not acting like yourself. Do you feel all right?”

  “Physically? Yes, except for still feeling tired.”

  “You’re not given to mood swings that smack of gloom and doom,” Renie asserted. “Aside from Willie taking that final leap into eternity, why—”

  Mr. Peterson stood in the door that Judith had left open. “Mrs. Flynn? Would you come downstairs with me?”

  Judith was puzzled. “Of course,” she said, standing up. “But wh
y?”

  The conductor looked pained. “Someone wants to speak to you.”

  Judith’s anxiety intensified. “Who?”

  “Please.” Mr. Peterson’s usual air of calm authority had deserted him. Backing into the corridor, he beckoned to Judith. “Please?”

  Renie had also stood up. “Not without me she can’t.”

  The conductor tried to look conciliatory. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Jones. I’ll make sure that Mrs. Flynn gets down the stairs safely.”

  “You bet your butt you will,” Renie snapped, barging in between him and Judith. “I’m coming, too. Let’s hit it.”

  Mr. Peterson led the way. At the bottom of the stairs, Judith saw Jax in the corridor with the Chans. The trio looked uneasy as a tall man in a state trooper’s uniform came out of Willie’s room. He moved toward the newcomers with long, deliberate strides. “Which one’s Mrs. Flynn?” he asked in a deep voice.

  “I am,” Judith said, surprised to hear her voice crack.

  The trooper gestured to an open roomette on his left. “Would you mind stepping inside? The occupants are in the dome car.”

  Warily, Judith walked to the doorway. Renie was right behind her, but the trooper held out an arm to bar her way. “Sorry, ma’am. This is a private conversation. You’ll have to wait outside.” He deftly stepped in front of Renie, backed into the roomette, and shut the door.

  Judith sat down on the small sofa. The trooper remained standing. There was nowhere else for him to sit in the small compartment. As he loomed over her, she focused on his ID badge. J. L. Purvis was in his mid-thirties, plain of face, but with skin weathered by Montana’s hot summers and cold winters. His only notable feature was a pair of shrewd, glacial blue eyes now fixed on Judith.

  “We’ve got an awkward situation, Mrs. Flynn,” he said calmly.

  “I hear you knew the deceased Mr. Weevil.”

  “Who told you that?” Judith asked—and realized that she sounded defensive, even hostile.

  “That’s not important,” Purvis said. “Is it true?”